


Polara

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy settles old scores, F/M, Jane and Thor are somewhere in space, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame AU, Rumlow and Rollins are Triple Agents!, SHIELD is just trying to rebuild okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-18 14:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: With Jane off with Thor in space, an Earth-bound Darcy decides to settle an old score. She's got help from a tree and the guy Thor still calls a "helpful rabbit."He is helpful, though.





	1. My Tree Is Smarter Than Your Honor Student

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: This is loosely based on a tumblr prompt about a character driving a recognizable vehicle + someone lamenting that Darcy hasn't been in more recent MCU movies. That got me thinking about what Darcy might get up to in an alternative universe where everybody lived and Jane decided to follow Thor into space. Also, STRIKE Alpha wasn't HYDRA.
> 
> I own nothing!

“What are you frowning at, mate?” Jack asked him, as he glared at the parking space in SHIELD’s new parking deck.

“What kind of fucking heathen puts that paint job on that car?” Brock said, pointing to the wide, massive car that was taking up roughly a space and a half. Whoever had parked it didn’t know how to park, Jack thought.

“Dunno. What kind of car is it?” Jack asked. “I don’t know your old man American cars.”

“That is a ‘67 Dodge Polara,” Brock said. “I think--’67, maybe ‘68.” He circled the car, leaning down to peer at the headlights, the car’s lines. He grimaced. The trunk was one color, the doors another. It had been covered with a variety of bumper stickers and spray painted slogans and doodles, like street graffiti. “You can get these cheap, restore them. Looks like somebody let a damn kid draw on this one, though,” Brock said, shaking his head and sneering.

“What happens in space stays in space?” Jack read aloud. That was in yellow spray paint across one side. He tilted his head. There was a bumper sticker that said _my tree is smarter than your honor student._ “Wonder what division they work in?” Jack mused.

“Probably some asshole from STRIKE Epsilon,” Brock told him.

“Ah, you’re just mad because Esposito beat you in the team-building exercise at the last retreat,” Jack said.

“Look, if we’ve got to do this team-building, pep rally shit to get our funding back to 2002 levels after the HYDRA shit and the Thanos shit, I wanna win, okay? It’s bad enough what we have to sit through in the staff meetings,” Brock said, as they walked towards their own vehicles.

“Uh-huh,” Jack said.

“Also, I know you dropped my ass on purpose during that trust fall, I’m still mad about that shit,” Rumlow said.

“I just misjudged the distance,” Jack said, a gleam in his eye.

“I’m forty fucking pounds lighter than you, that shit don’t fly,” Brock told him.

 

_***_

Upstairs, Groot sneezed, as Darcy carried him in his potted Christmas tree disguise. “Shhh,” Darcy said.

“He’s allergic to tinsel,” Rocket rasped from inside her messenger bag. The racoon stuck his head out a fraction when they got to the door, handing Darcy the clearance badge they’d stolen together.

“All right,” she told him. “Get Jane’s research and all my stuff and you can have whatever else you can carry.”

“iPod, research,” Rocket repeated, as Groot unwrapped the tinsel from around his face and hopped out of the pot. He high-fived Darcy and the two of them disappeared inside, carrying reusable shopping bags that said _Please Recycle_ on the side. She was the lookout. When a passing SHIELD agent looked at her, she smiled brightly. People never questioned you if you didn’t act guilty.

 

Three minutes later, Darcy--face hidden behind purple aviators--was carrying out a tinsel-strung Groot, several shopping totes, and a backpack full of raccoon. They made it to the Polara without being intercepted. “You didn’t tell me how old this stuff was,” Rocket said, holding up her iPod in the backseat and passing it up as she cranked the car.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s the principle of the thing. They took it, I’m taking it back,” Darcy said, as “Hooked on A Feeling” started to play from her phone. Groot liked to play music in the car and she’d left it on the dash.

“I’m so sick of that song. Groot, play some Katy Perry,” Rocket said. Groot cooed cheerfully. Peter’s eighties mix playlist was replaced by the sound of “Hot N Cold.”

“What else did you get?” Darcy asked.

“Some Chitauri guns and grenades, a rocket launcher,” Rocket said. “I know a guy….”

 

***

Brock was sitting in his SHIELD SUV in a space near the exit ramp. He’d stopped to take a call when the Polara pulled up in front of him. There was a woman in sunglasses behind the wheel, blasting Katy Perry, and in the passenger seat next to her, a...dancing Christmas tree toy? He blinked. That was exactly the sort of weird kid who’d do that to a car, he thought. Hipsters. His mouth curled. The driver of the Polara must’ve caught his expression because she waved cheerfully and yelled at him.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you smile?” she called out. He leaned out the driver’s side window of his own vehicle.

“I’m a federal agent!” he yelled back. She pulled out of the parking deck and he realized there was a goddamned raccoon in the backseat. It seemed to stare at him and then extended one of it’s human-like paws.

 

“Did that raccoon just flip me off?” he said out loud.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 1967 Dodge Polara:  
> 


	2. That Man in The Baskin-Robbins Hat is My Soulmate, I Know It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! This one is shaping up to be really fun.

Darcy and the guys did a tour of all the big DC landmarks. They were new in town, after all. “Is Fort Knox near here?” Rocket asked, as they circled the Lincoln Memorial. He rubbed his paws together.

“Sadly, no,” Darcy said. While Jane and Thor were off being Asgardians of the Galaxy or whatever, Darcy was working a temp job as a barista for an old college buddy and subletting a place from a grad student doing research in Norway that was a friend of a friend of Jane’s. Rocket and Groot were strictly off-lease occupants.

 

When they returned home, Rocket and Groot inventoried their loot and Darcy sent Jane a message via a space pager that Thor had gotten from one of the other Avengers somehow. _Got yur rsch back_ she sent off into space, grinning to herself. Then she tucked the pager back into her bag, went into the kitchen, and made herself a cup of coffee. “When are you going to take that down?” Rocket asked, clacking in behind her and shaking his head.

“Um, never?” Darcy said. “Because I love him and we’re going to be together one day?” She had a collage of photos of Scott Lang she’d printed out and taped to the fridge. They’d met briefly after the un-Dusting and Darcy had fallen hopelessly in love when he’d offered her some of his Cocoa Puffs, made a Scooby Doo joke, and demonstrated his Willow Smith-inspired hair flip in less than fifteen minutes. Ever since, she’d been his biggest fangirl. She had a twitter, a tumblr, and an instagram, all called ‘iheartAntMan.’ Anonymously, of course. Scott didn’t know it was her. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

“It’s stalkery,” Rocket said. “And he’s Ant-Man.”

“Ant-Man is amazing,” Darcy said. “He’s saved the world on multiple occasions--”

“I’m not sure you’re math checks out, sweetheart,” Rocket said.

“If he hasn’t, he will,” Darcy said firmly. “His skills are underrated. One day, Hope Van Dyne is gonna mess up and I’m going to be right there to comfort him.”

“Uh-huh,” Rocket said, hopping on the counter to pour his coffee.

“That man in the Baskin-Robbins hat is my soulmate, I know it,” Darcy said, reaching out to rub the edge of an old photo of Scott at his last job. Sam Wilson had given it to her. He might’ve been joking, but it was her favorite photo of Scott. His smile was so sweet. “I see you and you will be mine,” she told the picture. “Oh yes, you will be mine.”

“Stalkery,” Rocket repeated, trotting out of the kitchen.

“Scott would know that was a _Wayne’s World_ joke!” Darcy yelled. “And he’s got a burgeoning fanbase! People loved the selection of dances he did in his suit after he apprehended those bank robbers in Sacramento. The Robot, the Running Man, Call Me Maybe--”

“That’s a dance?” Rocket called from the living room.

“It was interpretative,” Darcy replied defensively.

 

***

“I know that raccoon flipped me off,” Brock repeated, a week later, as he and Jack threaded through DC traffic. “Who the hell keeps a raccoon in their car?” he wondered aloud. No one seemed to take his raccoon sighting seriously. More than one person had suggested that the STRIKE Commander was suffering from over work and needed a vacation.

“Maybe she trained ‘im. My cousins kept a koala for a pet. They trained it to clap,” Jack said. Brock looked at him.

“Are you fucking with me?” Brock said.

“No, of course not,” Jack said.

“Koalas clap?” Brock said skeptically. He googled as Jack drove. “You asshole,” he said. “They don’t clap.” He stared down at his phone. “Koalas get chlamydia?” Brock said, horrified.

“Ah, see, maybe I had it mixed up with having the clap,” Jack said. “Mighta been it.”

“You’ve spent too much damn time working with Cap,” Brock said. “Turned you into a fucking troll.”

“You’re just getting uptight in your old age, mate. You need a vacation,” Jack told him. Brock shot him a dark look,

“Half of SHIELD has retired, is on a roadtrip finding themselves, was recruited by Langley, or is recuperating after the Snap,” Brock said sharply. “I ain’t going any--shit. Look, Jack!” He pointed. Ahead of them in traffic was that old, weird car.

“Huh,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t want a car like that, makes you too recognizable.”

“Follow it,” Brock told him.

“You want me to follow it?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

“That is a classic car that needs me to liberate it from a crazy hipster who keeps a raccoon as a pet. I’ve been having nightmares on behalf of that car. It needs me,” Brock said.

“The car needs you?”

“I know it.”

“All right,” he replied. Jack pressed the accelerator and changed lanes. “Does the car talk in your nightmares?” he asked. “Or have a personality, like that one from the movie, the horror one--”

“That was Stephen King, that car was named Christine, and no, my car is not evil, Jack,” he said. “And it was a book first.”

“That’s important, innit?” Jack said.

“Shut up and drive.”

 

***

On her way to work, Darcy was bopping along to her recently-liberated 2011-era music. “I forgot I bought these!” she told Groot. He liked to hang out in the car during her shifts at the coffee shop. Something about how sunny and warm it was in the car helped him nap. He’d grown way faster, Rocket had told her. “That’s Ja-Rule. Nobody but me and Aziz Ansari remembers him.”

Groot trilled at her. “I really wish Thor had been able to find his elective course books before they left, so I could learn, too,” Darcy told him. She needed Rocket to translate and Rocket was on a mystery errand today. Darcy was singing along to “Always on Time”--Groot was humming along, too--when she sucked in a breath. Groot made an inquisitive sound. “It’s a SHIELD SUV, three cars back. I’d recognize those cars anywhere,” Darcy said, narrowing her gaze. Groot turned and peered over the backseat. “Hang on, Groot! I’m going to lose them on the beltway. They’ll think it’s regular traffic,” she said, veering into the next and heading for an on-ramp.

“Bloop,” Groot said, when they hit the on-ramp a little fast. He bounced.

“Sorry,” Darcy said. “I promised Jane I wouldn’t get arrested while she was gone. Put that seatbelt around your trunk, I’m making this yellow light.” She sped up.

“Gheeeeeee!” Groot said, throwing up his branches.

  

***

“Are they _fleeing?”_ Rumlow said, frowning. Why had they sped up? Crazy woman. Her tail lights were getting smaller ahead of them. He craned to see.

“It appears that way,” Jack said. “Unless your raccoon friend is a bad driver.”

“Haha, Crocodile Dundee,” Brock said. “Very fucking funny.”

“Maybe he has those pedal extenders, you never know,” Jack mused. “He sounds like a talented fellow, but I’m not sure he could get a driver’s license in this country. Probably a gun, though.”

“Make another joke, but if you lose that car, we will play a game where you find out how many guns that I carry,” Brock said.

“Well, that escalated quickly, mate,” Jack said, changing lanes again. Brock made an indeterminate sound. “I revise me original opinion, the raccoon’s a bloody good driver,” he added, as they were forced to stop at a red light and the car crossed the intersection.

“Goddammit,” Brock said. “I’m calling Klein, seeing if he can get me street camera access.”

“Bet Cam knows how many guns you carry,” Jack said.

“I apologized for that. He knows I wouldn’t have shot him now,” Brock insisted. “We’re okay.”

“Too right,” Jack said, an edge of sarcasm peeking through. Brock glared.

 

***

“Shit,” Darcy said. “Does Rocket carry a phone? I want him to come get you if they’re following me.”

“Bee-doo,” Groot said, picking up Darcy’s phone.

“Huh. You can do talk-to-text?” she said. Groot nodded and babbled. Rocket called back a few seconds later.

“What’s going on?” he said, sounding irritated.

“I got feds on my tail, I need you to come get Groot while I distract them,” Darcy said. “They’re obviously looking for this car. I’m too visible.” She gave him the address. “Meet you around back at the Target?”

“Got it,” the raccoon said. “Told you that old rust bucket was too conspicuous.”

“Hey, don’t trash talk my ca--” Darcy began, before realizing he’d hung up. “I love this car,” she told Groot.

“Tee-tee,” he said.

“It’s a good car, right?” she asked him.

“Tee-tee,” he repeated, spreading his branches as if to say it was roomy.

“Exactly,” Darcy said.

 

A nervous Darcy had parked in a loading zone when Rocket roared up on a motorcycle. “How’d you get that?” Darcy asked, as Groot hopped into the sidecar. Rocket looked like he was using stilts or something.

“Anything’s obtainable if you always carry pedal pushers and know where the dealership hangs the keys,” the raccoon told her.

“Be careful,” Darcy said. “If I get arrested before I get home tonight, I’ll have my lawyer call you.” She waved. “Bye, Groot.” The little tree waved and both of them vanished around the back. Darcy took a deep breath and got back in her car. If she was lucky, maybe they’d lost them. Or it was nothing at all.

She drove out of the Target parking lot, sat at the light, and made a right, headed for her job. She was going to be late for work today. Also, traffic was heavy. She was sitting behind a station wagon in bumper-to-bumper, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, and watching the clock, when she glanced into her rearview mirror. That was when she saw the SUV a few cars behind her. “Why’s my karma so crappy?” she said out loud. “It was my freaking personal property!”

  

***

“I got visual!” Brock yelled in the SUV. He’d been getting directions over the phone from Cameron Klein.

“Volume, mate,” Jack said, wincing. Rumlow was clearly getting a little agitated. Maybe the car would be good, Jack thought, restoring it would give him a nice, soothing project. He was getting tired of listening to Brock yell at the TV during basketball games--he had an annoying habit of watching sports in their open-plan offices, since they worked weird hours--and slightly concerned that Brock was going to have a coronary at some point.

“They’re going to get coffee,” Brock said, sounding surprised, as the car turned off. “Oh, of course they are. I bet the raccoon has his own coffee order with a half-shot of hazelnut and soy milk. All these goddamn kids,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Jack said, as he pulled into a space.

“These kids, these freaky hipsters, you know. They have really complicated dietary shit,” Brock said.

“I once saw you have a bloody meltdown because they sent you the wrong kind of protein powder,” Jack said.

“That’s different, that’s for my fitness,” Brock said, stepping on the sidewalk. “These kids, they have their soy milk and their tattoos--”

“Didn’t you get a new one a month ago?” Jack said. Brock had gone a little wild with the ink now that he wasn’t undercover.

“Mine are cool,” Brock said, opening the door so Jack got a rush of chilled air. They walked inside. “There she is,” Brock said, dropping his voice to a whisper. There were two women working behind the counter. One had her back to them.

“Can I help you?” the other said. Her hair was purple.

“That her?” Jack whispered through a smile. The barista looked dubiously at him.

“No, she’s the one with the big, uh--” Brock made the universal gesture for big breasts, then caught the other barista glaring. “Big curls,” he finished. “Curly hair.”

“What drinks would you like?” the purple-haired barista said, an edge of venom in her voice.

“No, uh--” Brock began.

“Caramel frappuccino with skim milk and extra coffee?” Jack cut in.

“Really?” Brock said. “Now?”

“What? I wanted a coffee,” he told Brock. “I like ‘em.”

“Nothing for me,” Brock said.

“Your loss,” Jack said.

“Miss--miss?” Brock said, walking down the counter to be closer to woman working the steamer. She seemed to be avoiding his gaze, head tilted down. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” she said, seeming to crouch a little.

“I saw you at SHIELD the other day?” Brock began, smiling. “In the parking deck? I’m here to take your car off your hands,” he said.

 

Her head jerked up.

  

***

“Oh, hell no!” Darcy yelled, as soon as the words left his lips. These assholes, with their entitlement, these bullies. They thought they could come and take her Polara, too? The edges of Darcy’s vision had gone red by the time she hit the swinging door and marched out to face him, still carrying the ingredients for the caramel frap in the blender by its handle.

“What?” the SHIELD guy said to her.

“Not today, asshole,” Darcy said. “You--you people will never, ever take anything from me again, or I swear to God, I will page someone and all of Asgard will land on your ass--”

“Ma’am,” the other one said, “I think there’s been a miscommunication.” He had an accent. Or he was fucking with her. Probably that. Darcy could actually feel her nostrils flare as she inhaled roughly.

“Look, I just want--” the ostensible car thief said.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” she screamed in Car Thief’s face. She had perhaps spent too much time in the company of pissed-off raccoons. And Jane. Definitely Jane. She poured the frappuccino over Car Thief’s face.

“Aww, mate,” his partner said sadly. “Not my extra coffee caramel.”

That was how she found herself cuffed and being hustled into their SUV. “This is an extra-legal arrest!” Darcy screamed.

“It’s assault on a federal agent,” Car Thief grumbled, seeming to  pull her away without any effort.

“These pigs don’t have jurisdiction! Tammy, call Foggy!” she yelled to her manager. Tammy nodded. Foggy Nelson was her attorney buddy in New York. They’d all known each other at Culver, that was how she’d gotten this temporary job.

“Foggy?” the Australian one said, as he buckled her into the backseat. “That your raccoon?”

“What raccoon?” Darcy said, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That right?” Australian said.

“Damn straight, you jackbooted thugs,” Darcy said, glaring.

 


	3. My Lawyer, New York's Best D@#n Avocado

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments and kudos! I own nothing!

“Do you know who I am?” she announced to Brock, after he’d changed clothes and went down to the interrogation room. They’d told him she wouldn’t talk without a lawyer, but he thought if he could explain what he’d wanted and that he wasn’t pressing charges, she’d stop screaming and throwing things. He really wanted that car. He’d give her a good price. He had back pay from being injured at Triskelion. Helen Cho had fixed his burns, so he’d let the back pay sit for awhile, as he decided what thing seemed worthy enough. 

“The woman who owns the Polara?” he said hopefully.

“I’m Darcy Lewis,” she said.

“Who?” he said.

“Darcy Lewis. Lewis! From New Mexico?” she said. “I was Jane Foster’s assistant in New Mexico and again in London. I work for her. I’ve been working with her since 2011.”

“I remember Foster,” Brock said, thinking of the tiny brunette on the cover of  _ TIME.  _ “I don’t remember any assistant, though.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” she asked him.

“If you work for Jane Foster, why are you working at a coffee shop?” he said, frowning. Was she maybe some sort of fabulist? Fantasized she was friends with Thor? It happened. They’d once caught a kid doing experiments in Tennessee who said he’d been taught by Tony Stark.

“Jane and Thor have gone off to have space adventures and I stayed her to keep their, uh, pets--” she said, looking suddenly like she’d been caught in a lie.

“Their pets?” he said. Her file was on the table.

“Uh-huh,” she said. He thought she looked like she’d like to take it all back. He opened the file of info that Cam had gleaned from public records and a brief search, leaned forward gently, tried to fix her with a sympathetic look.

“Miss Lewis,” he said. “There’s no pet on your lease. Now, none of this matters if we can just talk about your car. That’s all I wanted to talk to you about.”

“No,” she said, staring at the thin file on his desk. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“What?” he said, looking down.

“My file,” she said. “It should be thicker. I fought Dark Elves! I sent that Coulson guy, like, a million emails about my stuff--”

“Your stuff?” he said. During Triskelion, they’d lost most of their files, both paper and electronic. But she could still be a nutter, he thought. Really pretty, but a complete whackjob.

“My stuff that you stole,” she said. “Just like you’re trying to take my car.”

“No, that’s not what we’re doing here, I swear,” he said, lifting his palms up in surrender. She looked at him, blue eyes wide and suddenly emotional. She burst into tears.

“Eight years! Eight-freaking-years!” she said, sobbing. “I just wanted my stuff back. You had it here--”

“What are you talking about?” Brock said.

“My stuff?” she said.

“What?” he repeated. “I just want to buy your car, lady. Give you a good price for it.”

“Buy my car?” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “I want my attorney. I won’t talk without him.” Brock sighed, shook his head, and picked up the card on the desk. She’d left it out.

“Your attorney?” he said. The card said Nelson and Murdock.

“The best attorney in New York,” she replied sharply.

“Oh yeah? Then why is his office in Hell’s Kitchen?” Brock asked.

“He does a lot of pro bono work, he’s philanthropic,” she told him. Brock chuckled.

“Miss Lewis, I’m from the Bronx, I know exactly what you mean,” he said wryly. An ambulance chaser, in all likelihood. This guy probably represented her in a bunch of nuisance lawsuits. He got up, left the room, and called a friend in the New York office of the FBI, just to see if anyone had ever been arrested for stalking Jane Foster or something. Darcy Lewis’s social media accounts were all private or sketchy. He got the New York records on Foster from a buddy within thirty minutes or so. They weren’t complete, but they did have an intern listed. Rumlow went back into the room.

“Well?” she said. “Is my lawyer here?”

“Nope,” Rumlow said. He sat down and stretched. “Nelson’s on his way. I really just want to buy your car,” he said in his mildest voice.

“Bite me,” she grumbled. “When Thor hears you cuffed me, he’s gonna go Mew-Mew on your ass.”

“Mew Mew?” Rumlow said.

“The hammer,” she said venomously.

“The hammer is named Mjolnir, sweetheart,” he said. He flipped through the file. “Also, the New York office does have an intern listed in their Foster file, even if it’s incomplete.”

“I knew it! It’s me. I was her intern!” Darcy said.

“Really? Then why does it say a British guy called Ian Boothby was her intern?” he asked wryly. 

“He was  _ my  _ intern,” she said. “Oh my God, how is SHIELD so bad at this?”

“I thought you were the intern?” he said.

“I was, but then I hired him. Also, we were engaged, briefly, after the Convergence,” she said. “But it was a mistake. Heat of the moment.”

“Uh-huh,” Rumlow said. “Well, the only known associates of Jane Foster are Erik Selvig, who we know very well--”

“Because you got him brainwashed?” she said. 

“And this Boothby guy. He teaches astrophysics now, if you were curious about what your ex is up to,” he said, smirking. She was clearly, crazypants. It was a shame, really, since she was so pretty.

“I knew that,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said. “So, you don’t want to sell me your car?”

“I hope you take a long walk off a short pier, you--you probable Nazi mole!” she yelled.

“Only probable?” he said, grinning. He’d been called worse.

 

Her lawyer showed up a few hours later. A sheepish-faced guy with floppy blonde hair and a slightly-rumped shirt. Rumlow immediately downgraded him from ambulance chaser to soft touch who was probably always doing this for his friends. The guy looked like he’d give you the shirt off his back and his last twenty. “Foggy Nelson,” he said, proffering a hand. “Gentlemen, why are you holding my friend?” he asked.

“I dunno,” Jack said. “This is his rodeo.” He jerked his thumb at Rumlow and went back to watching an online feed of Australian rules football scores.

“I was hoping you could talk sense into her--” Rumlow began. The lawyer actually laughed.

“People are always asking me to do that,” he said. “My track record is iffy.”

“I just want to buy her car, but she threw coffee on me. Is there medication or something...?” Rumlow said.

“The Polara? She’ll never sell, she loves that car,” Nelson said. “Sorry.” His voice was genuinely sympathetic.

“You’ll just have to get one off the internet, mate,” Jack said, not looking up.

“Well, you can take her, I’m not pressing charges,” Rumlow said. “Just try and tell her not to throw things and cuss at cops, okay?”

“Sure,” Nelson said, pulling a face that made Jack start to laugh.

 

Nelson walked her out and she glared furiously at Rumlow. “Take care, Miss Lewis,” he said.

“I’m filing a report!” she yelled. Foggy Nelson shushed her.

“Darcy, let’s let these nice gentlemen who  _ are not pressing charges  _ continue on with their day, before they change their minds and I have to be your alternative custody person for  _ them,  _ okay?” Nelson said. 

“They’re not that hard to take care of,” Rumlow heard her whisper back. “Really, I like living with them.”

“Marci would not see things your way,” the lawyer said. Rumlow watched as they exited. Lewis turned back and stuck her tongue out at him. He found himself grinning and gave her a little wave. She whipped her head back around angrily. 

“They didn’t know who I am! Does nobody remember me?” he heard her tell Nelson as the door shut.

“What are you smiling about?” Jack asked him.

“That crazy woman has a raccoon in her apartment and I’m going to prove it,” Rumlow said. “People think I’m crazy. I’m not crazy. She’s crazy. I’ll prove it.”

“Prove it how?” Jack said.

“I’m going to stake out her place,” Rumlow said. “Get photos of that damn raccoon. Send ‘em to that Collins asshole who suggested at my age it might be dementia hallucinations. Fucker.”

“Where’s your jurisdiction?” Jack said mildly.

“I’ll use Patriot,” Rumlow said. “She’s a possible threat to Avengers, which makes this our rodeo.”

“Not ours,” Jack said. “Yours. I’m not gettin’ involved in this one.”

“But you want pictures of the raccoon, right?” Rumlow said.

“If he’s flipping you off, I’ll put it on holiday cards, send one to me mum,” Jack said cheerfully.

“I’m going down to equipment, getting some binoculars,” Rumlow said.

 

***

“They don’t even know I stole anything, much less my actual name. I tell you Foggy, this wouldn’t be  happening if Phil Coulson had ever been director of SHIELD. They’ve really gone downhill,” Darcy said, as they got into the Polara. Foggy had taken an Uber to the coffee shop, per Tammy’s instructions.

“You stole from SHIELD?” Foggy said, sighing.

“Just my stuff! Well, Rocket did take some things….” Darcy added. 

“I’m not taking in that raccoon if he’s got nuclear weapons, I already babysit Matt and Karen, okay? I cannot handle anymore of my people going to the dark side. Don’t go that way, Darce,” he said.

“Did you just quote  _ The Last Jedi  _ at me? Am I  _ Kylo Ren  _ in this story? Foghorn Leghorn, I am offended. I would never let that crypt keeper boss me around or kill my cool divorced dad,” Darcy grumbled.

“Han Solo is a cool divorced dad,” Foggy mused, nodding.

“He would totally let you have ice cream for dinner and watch horror movies you weren’t actually ready for, like  _ Jaws,”  _ Darcy said. “Promise me you’ll be a cool divorced dad to my raccoon and my tree if they do catch on, though?”

“Marci’ll definitely divorce me and we aren’t even married yet,” Foggy said. “She doesn’t even want a cat, because she doesn’t have time for a litter box.”

“Rocket uses the toilet. He  _ can _ flush--”

“Are you indicating that he sometimes forgets?” Foggy said.

“You know what I mean, just take care of them until Jane and Thor come back, if I go to jail. By the way, how is everybody?”

“Matt’s never showing up for work again, Karen’s nursing an unrequited thing for Frank Castle--” Foggy said.

“Frank’s alive?” Darcy said.

“Calls himself Pete now. She visits whenever he’s in the hospital,” Foggy said. “I think things have cooled down on the Fisk front.”

“That’s good,” Darcy said.

“I’m relieved,” Foggy said.

“Do you have a number for Frank Castle?” Darcy said.

“Not you too! What do women see in that guy?” Foggy said. Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Foggy, stop being resentful because Karen is into danger, sexually-speaking, and totally snubbed your normal, excellent dude date, okay? You and her would be miserable together. She’d probably make you go skydiving for her pre-sex adrenaline fix--”

“Ugh,” Foggy said.

“See? Exactly. And I’m not into Frank like that, I’m saving myself for Scott Lang. I just think he might be a good buyer for Rocket’s stuff. He loves shooty things and won’t turn us into the feds,” Darcy said.

“Oh, I gotcha,” Foggy said. He looked thoughtful. “And sky-diving _would_ totally mess up my hair.”

“Totally,” Darcy said.

“Can you save yourself for somebody in your thirties?” Foggy wondered aloud.

“If you can be re-baptized for Jesus, you can totally re-virgin yourself for your soulmate,” Darcy said. “I’ve decided, he’s the one for me. The only man in the entire universe who can understand and share all my key interests,” she explained.

“Isn’t he with that CEO?” Foggy said.

“Just for now, Fogster. One day, he will allllllll mine,” Darcy said. “He’ll see she doesn’t understand him like I do.”

“You definitely sounded a little Kylo Ren right in that moment,” Foggy said.

“Phffft,” Darcy said. “You want to get some food?”

“Heck, yeah. You find any good places yet?” he asked.

“I’ve heard there’s this good soul food place,” Darcy said.

“Ooooh, mac and cheese, that’s almost worth that train trip,” Foggy said.

“You can crash with me for as long as you want,” Darcy said, googling for the address.

“That is exactly what gets you in trouble,” Foggy told her affectionately. “Inviting the crazy to live with you.”

“You aren’t crazy!” Darcy said. “It’s on U Street. Make a right.”

“I’m definitely crazy-adjacent,” Foggy said, shaking his head. “But I do enjoy cornbread.”

  
  


***

Later that day, Rumlow was parked in front of Lewis’s building. He saw the Polara pull up and she and the lawyer got out, carrying bags from a restaurant. They went in and he focused his attention on her blinds. “Open the window blinds, baby. C’mon, open a blind for me, huh?” He waited a moment as the lights came on and he saw her open the blinds. “Success!” he said. “I’m the goddamned king of stakeouts. Nobody better than me!” he said, fist-pumping.

“Are you actually peering in her windows, mate?” Jack asked over comms. He was jogging in SHIELD’s gym. “Like a pervert?” he added. He hadn’t wanted to go along, but he had wanted to make sure Brock didn’t get arrested himself. So, they’d compromised and he was there via comms earbud.

“I’m parked on the street, it’s not pervy,” Brock insisted. He scanned the apartment. “It looks like her and the lawyer guy are just getting ready to eat,” he said. “Where are you, you fucking critter?”

“What are they eating?” Jack asked casually.

“Ohhh’s and Ahh’s,” Brock said.

“They get the mac ‘n cheese?” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “I don’t even see a damn cage for it.”

“What?” Jack said.

“The raccoon doesn’t have a cage,” Brock said.

“Maybe it’s free-range,” Jack said, ramping up the incline on his treadmill.

“Very funny, asshole,” Brock said.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in the MCU forgets poor Darcy, amirite? And Foggy? Well,


	4. Foggy Nelson Practices His Matt Voice, But It Never Works

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your kudos and comments! This one is speeding along like crazy (seriously, I have *7* more pages of shenanigans and gags and it literally pains me not to post all of it at once).

Inside the apartment, Darcy hit a button. “You’ve still got an answering machine?” Foggy said.

“I just got it. I’m giving it to Peter Q. when they all get back,” Darcy explained. “He loves stuff like this. I found it at Goodwill.” Rocket’s voice rasped to life on the machine.

“Spotted the fed parked outside your place. Laying low for awhile,” he was saying, when an idea occurred to Darcy. She grabbed her phone as Foggy stared down at the machine.

“My life is so weird,” Foggy said out loud, just as Rocket answered.

“Yello?” he said to Darcy.

“I’ve got an idea for where you and Groot can hide out. I’ll come visit you, bring snacks and cash,” she told him. Across the room, Foggy was getting beers out of the fridge.

“All right,” Rocket said. “Where am I going, toots?”

 

“You’re sending them _there?”_ Foggy said, once Darcy ended the call.

“Yup,” she said. “Where no one will ever think to look for them.”

“What if Rocket steals things? Important things?” Foggy said.

“I’m sure he won’t,” Darcy said.

“Really?” Foggy said.

“Don’t use your Matt voice on me, Fogs,” Darcy said.

“I feel like I should, when you send the world’s sketchiest raccoon there,” Foggy said. “Darcy, what would the librarians at Culver say?” His voice was mock-appalled. He’d learned that from Altar Boy Matt, Darcy knew.

“Don’t you put that on me, counselor! You know librarian-approval is my secret kryptonite. Mean!” Darcy said.

“It’s how I got to be the world’s best avocado,” he said, smiling.

 

***

Rumlow watched crazy Darcy Lewis on-and-off for several days. When he wasn’t at work or the gym, he followed her. He watched her take the lawyer to the train station. He even spent one night parked outside her apartment, sleeping. When he wasn’t following her, he was trying to figure her out. She drove the Polara everywhere, so it was easy to find her at work, the grocery store, even the Smithsonian. He’d even seen her several times in traffic  _accidentally_. She was that conspicuous. Or his ex with the law of attraction thing was right and he was thinking about her so much, she was literally appearing to him in traffic on Constitution Ave. He’d seen her on 6th Street and followed her on impulse this afternoon. “I can’t figure out why she keeps coming here?” he said to Jack over the phone, as Lewis went inside the museum for the second time in two days. The raccoon was still MIA.

“Maybe she’s got a Cap thing, mate?” Jack offered, yawning.

“Can you not be a wiseass?” Brock said.

“I’m the one staying late, submitting your bloody reports,” Jack retorted. “I support your obsessive behaviors, mate.”

“I’m sorry,” Brock said. He huffed out a sigh. “I didn’t mean to be shitty, man. I apologize.”

“Thank you,” Jack said. “Why don’t you go in and ask the crazy woman on a bloody date?”

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” Brock said, jaw actually dropping a fraction before he shut it again.

“I know your emotional bandwidth’s got a narrow range, but it ought to be obvious to you that you’re fixated on this girl,” Jack said. “You don’t get fixated on much.”

“I don’t get fixated on shit,” Brock said defensively. “I’m clear-headed and attachment-free. I’ve read the _I Ching_ and _Wherever You Go, There You Are.”_ He had been the half of their work partnership to survive the Snap. While he’d tried to hold the remnants of SHIELD together without half the staff, including Fury and Hill, he’d read library books and talked to a Jack that wasn’t there. When Jack had been resurrected, Brock had actually cried whenever he looked at him for a month.

“Uh-huh. What about boxing?” Jack offered.

“That’s exercise, it’s different,” Brock said.

“How many gym trips today?” Jack asked.

“Two,” Brock admitted.

“Protein bars,” Jack said.

“Hey--” Brock said.

“What, a box a week?” Jack said.

“It’s convenient,” Brock said, looking guiltily at the bar in his cup holder. “So, I don’t have to think about food at work.”

“Work, which you’re normally obsessive about, only you’re ditching your reports to follow Darcy Lewis around, you emotional fuckwit,” Jack said.

“I might be offended if I didn’t know you were saying that with love, brother,” Brock grumbled. “Besides, she’s a complete loon, even if she is gorgeous.”

“And?” Jack said. “You’re as mad as a pissed kangaroo half the time. You’ve got both those in common.”

“You think I’m pretty? Jack, I never thought--”

“Ask her on a bloody date,” Jack said, hanging up.

 

***

Inside the Smithsonian, Darcy squeezed into the projection room showing interview footage of people who’d known Cap. “You got his number?” Rocket asked from the next seat.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Rumlow’s still following me. How’s it going?” She passed him the number for Frank Castle. Rocket wanted to do his own price negotiations, but Darcy wanted to be there when Frank saw he was buying guns from a raccoon and a tree. Rocket had told her she could tag along.

“Good, they don’t pay no attention to me or Groot here. This was a good place,” he told her.

“Where’s Groot?” she asked.

“He goes around. He likes the Howling Commandos display, though,” Rocket said. He looked over his shoulder. “Somebody’s coming. Call you with a time and place.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. Rocket hurred off, disappearing into the seats. A minute later someone came inside and moved down the aisle. Darcy looked over. “Are you going to arrest me here, too?” she said. Rumlow smiled at her, the side of his face illuminated by the projector. He sat down next to her.

“Nope,” he said. “No arresting. I, uh, met her a few times,” he said, looking at Peggy Carter on the screen. “Real firecracker. Took no shit,” he said quietly, tilting his head towards Darcy. “You and her, you would have gotten along.”

“Oh, really?” Darcy said. He was obviously playing Good Cop now, she thought, rolling her eyes in the dark.

“Uh-huh,” he said. They watched the interview. Peggy Carter had good taste in lipstick, Darcy could admit to herself, even if she was the Queen Mother of the Jackbooted Thugs Brigade.

“You miss Cap?” she asked. Steve had retired, gone off to have the family he’d always wanted, left SHIELD, like Clint. She admired Steve’s willingness to let his Avengers role go for love and family. Thor had mentioned being able to get in touch with him, but for all most people knew, he was off-grid all together.

“Sometimes,” he said. “It was tough going for awhile, trying to hold the place together while he dealt with Thanos. Tough to lose him at work.”

“Oh, how sad, you have difficulty renditioning property and people without your super-soldier?” Darcy said archly.

“You just like to bust my balls, don’t you?” he said, sounding amused. “But no, I’m happy for Cap. Let the man have his life. It’s time, isn’t it?”

 

Rumlow followed her out to the rest of the Steve exhibit. Darcy began to wonder if he knew something, like the fact that Rocket was probably somewhere bartering on the phone with Frank Castle. Darcy had to repress a giggle at the thought of them both rasping grumpily at one another. “You like this exhibit?” Rumlow said suddenly. “A fan of Cap?”

“Me?” Darcy said, “No, I mean, no more than the average person. He’s super nice--”

“You’ve met, huh?” Rumlow asked wryly. He wiggled his eyebrows.

“He signed some things for my cousin Jenna’s son and took a photo with me,” she said stubbornly.

“That sounds like him,” Rumlow said. “Did Thor introduce you two? Maybe set up a blind date?”

“You’re very funny, but I’ve already met my soulmate,” Darcy said, moving over to the Howling Commandos uniforms. From behind the mannequin wearing Dum Dum Dugan’s uniform, she saw Groot peeking out. He waved a branch at her. She smiled at him.

“I thought you were single?” Rumlow said. Darcy looked over and realized he was frowning at her.  

“I am,” she said.

“But you’ve met your soulmate?” he said slowly.

“Oh, he has a girlfriend now, but one day, he might be single. And I’ll be ready,” Darcy said. “He’s the perfect guy.”

“An Asgardian?” Rumlow said, his voice teasing.

“No, he’s more the technology superhero type. He lives in California. But he was a regular guy first, so he’s very down-to-Earth,” Darcy said. “But just as heroic as Cap, no matter what people on Twitter say.”

“A down to Earth guy who is just as talented as Cap,” Rumlow repeated.

“His previous job--before jail--was working in food service, so he gets it,” Darcy said. “He’s very humble.”

“An ex-con? That’s your soulmate?” Rumlow said.

“I hope so,” Darcy said wistfully, staring at the poster of Little Steve. “He and Steve have so much in common. He knows what being a little guy is like, too.”

“Okay. I’m pretty sure Cap was never in jail, though,” Rumlow said.

“It was a wrongful conviction,” she said.

“He didn’t do what he was convicted of?” Rumlow asked.

“Oh, no, he did it, but it was for a good reason,” she said seriously.

“His Ma needed a kidney?” he offered wryly. She gave him a dark look.

“If you really want to know, he stole proof that his employer was overbilling customers and they prosecuted him for theft of company property,” she said stiffly. “He was just trying to protect people. He’s sweet like that.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. “So, you’re waiting for him?”

“I am,” she said.

“You have any objections to having dinner with me until he becomes available?” he asked. “Your prison pen pal?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Huh--” she began. Darcy was going to say no. Definitively. As in _fuck, no, what is wrong with you?_ But then she saw Rocket waving at her from inside the ladies’ room. His tiny paw was trying to flag her down. “Er, uh, excuse me,” she said. “I just really need to pee, all of a sudden.”

“Okay,” he said, blinking at her. He looked befuddled. Darcy bolted to the bathroom.

 

“Rocket, this is a ladies’ room,” Darcy said, once she was inside.

“So? You ain’t no lady, but they let you in,” he said, hopping up onto the sink and washing his hands. “You need to go out with the fed. Distract him. Flash the girls a little?”

“I am not--” Darcy began, before he waved at her dismissively.

“I ain’t saying you gotta go all the way, just throw him off balance. He’ll be so busy drooling over you, he won’t give us no trouble about any of our real business, you know?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Damn. Damn. I really wanted my next date to be with Scott.”

“We work this out, I’ll make sure it happens,” Rocket said. “I can’t guarantee he’ll like you like you want him to, but I can put you and Scotty in the same place.”

“But his girlfriend,” Darcy said with a sigh.

“So?” Rocket said. “You start out thinking you’ll lose, you’ll never get anywhere. If he’s lying around handy, you take him. He’ll forget that Wasp chick, if you do it right.”

“He’s not a set of car keys,” Darcy said.

“I’ve met him. Car keys are a challenge. You could lure him with a trail of Cheetos,” Rocket said skeptically.

“Could you eat the Wasp, if she got really small?” Darcy asked curiously.

“Oh, but you don’t wanna steal him, no, you’ve got ethics,” Rocket scoffed.

“I was just wondering!” Darcy said.

“You better get back out there, before the fed comes in here looking for ya,” Rocket said. “Hold on, lean down.”

“What?” Darcy said, leaning. He hit the hand dryer and it blew her hair back. “Ow, that’s hot.”

“That’s the idea, you walk out looking like Beyonce,” Rocket said. “Go on, flirt a little.”

“Okay, I’ll go for one drink,” Darcy said. “Just one drink. Schedule the thing with Frank.”

“I got it handled,” Rocket said. He patted his hair in the mirror, humming “Last Friday Night.”

 

****

She’d come out of the bathroom looking all pink and like she’d fixed her hair and then seemed totally okay with going to dinner with him. Even perked up a little when Brock mentioned Indian food. He took her to Rasika. Once they got to the restaurant, she was smiling at all the plates that went by. “You really like Indian food, huh?” he asked.

“I never got to have fun food like this with Jane,” she said.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, trying to quell the knot in his stomach whenever she behaved as if Foster was her BFF. What the fuck was he even doing? So what, she was pretty and weirdly like an itch he wanted to scratch. He was getting crazy. Listening to Jack’s advice….

“Not many Indian restaurants adjoining your Norwegian observatories,” Darcy said to him. Then she looked arch. “You still think I’m lying, don’t you? Ugh, that is so irritating!”

“Actually,” he said, flagging down the waiter to get her a second drink, “my real worry is that you believe in this soulmate nonsense, sweetheart.” He wanted to see if she was amenable to seduction, though.

“You think my soulmate is nonsense?” she said.

“He’s some ex-con with a girlfriend and there you are pining, I’m just concerned,” he said, grinning.

“You must not believe in soulmates then,” she said.

“I believe in affinity and mutual interests,” he said. “Like your car, for example. We have a shared interest in that car. I love that car.”

“I’m not selling it. I love it more,” she told him, stabbing her tikka masala with some emphasis.

“Oh, yeah? So, why is painted like that, if you love it?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m going to restore it traditionally one day, when I have the money. That was just for temporary fun. The engine runs fine, it was my Uncle Joe’s,” she said. “I can’t decide between the medium dark turquoise in the Dodge colorways for '68 or the medium blue.”

“Yeah? Not the lighter blue or the silver?” he said, bringing up a swatch page online on his phone.

“Nope,” Darcy said. She smiled at him. God, she was attractive, he thought, which was followed by, _also, not thinking with my fucking brain anymore._ That was his problem, Brock realized. He wanted her, even if she was bizarre and strange and had delusions about being Jane Foster’s assistant.

“You ever need a hand restoring it, I’m happy to help,” he told her.

“Right, because I can trust you?” she said.

“You can trust me,” he said. “What about the 1968 red--”

“I know you’ve been lurking outside my apartment, I’m not a total idiot,” she said suddenly.

“Shit,” he said. “Oh God.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re a little bit obvious when you prop your commando boots on the dash to sleep. But let me make one thing clear: if SHIELD thinks they can get something from me or you think you can seize my car, nuh-uh, buddy,” she sassed.

“I don’t want to take you car,” Brock told her. “Not when you love it, too.”

“Sure,” she said, putting one hand on her hip.

“What if I just want to make out in the car a little?” he said, grinning.

“Shut up,” she said. “You’re just messing with me, jackboot.”

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve always wanted to with a gorgeous girl in a car like that, I just thought it would be _my_ car. It’s a surprise that it’s yours. You want another drink?” He grinned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Purposefully vague about: the length of the Snap and the nature and co-captain of Steve's retirement, so you can choose your own adventure! [blows kisses]


	5. SHIELD is the Mother of Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Earning our M-rating with the first section.

“Is it as good as you thought it would be?” she asked him, a few hours later, when he’d driven the Polara to an alley behind her apartment --he was sober--and climbed in the backseat with her. She was straddling his lap, kissing and sucking on his neck.

“Better,” he said heatedly, hitching up her shirt so he could slide his hands up to unclasp her bra. “God, so much better,” he said out loud and pressed his face into her cleavage. She actually laughed then.

“Even if I’m crazy?” she asked, running her hands over his neck. If it was possible to die of arousal, he was there. She had started touching his arms in the restaurant, but insisted on dessert. He was keyed up now.

“You’re the good kind of crazy,” he told her, looking back up. “Funny, imaginative--” She scoffed.

“Please,” she said. “SHIELD is the mother of lies.”

“Huh?”

“It’s what they called the ancient historian Herodotus,” she said, rocking her hips. He groaned. “The father of lies,” she told him. “It was part of one of my history classes.”

“History?” he said, brain stuttering as she pried his shirt off. She felt so good in his arms. He kissed her neck, then the soft rounded curve of her shoulder, and began trailing light kisses over her chest playfully. She made him feel like that—almost giddy with blended excitement and pleasure.

“I was a political science major,” she said, arching her back so their bodies were close. He shivered. His pants needed to be off ten minutes ago. He fumbled with them and she lifted her hips obligingly.

“Politics major and Foster’s intern?” he said teasingly, then wished he hadn’t.

“Oh, condom,” she said, ignoring his jibe to reach for her purse.

“Christ,” he murmured, forgetting anything about Jane Foster or work as she lowered herself onto him. “Uhhhh,” he groaned, momentarily wordless at how good it felt. He looked at her with dazed eyes as she moved and she actually laughed at him. Darcy shifted forward.

“You okay, Commander?” she whispered in his ear and his hips jolted automatically.  _Fuck fuck fuck._

“Uh, shit, I didn’t mean to,” he said, stuttering out an apology. “I don’t usually come, I mean, I do, I do, just not this fucking soon. Shit—I’m babbling.”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, fingers scratching his hair. He blinked.

“I could go down on you,” he offered, not wanting her to think he only cared about himself.

“Here?” she said, looking at the space.

“I’m flexible,” Brock said determinedly. She laughed. “What?”

“You’re a lot of….determination?” she offered.

 

“I ended up with Jane because I needed six science credits and everyone in her department was scared of her,” Darcy said, finally answering his earlier question. They were wedged in the backseat, cuddling. He wanted to suggest going inside her apartment, but that would mean he’d need to let go of her. “She bites! See this scar?” she said, pointing to a half moon on her forearm.

“Is that fucking teeth marks?” he said, narrowing his eyes in the half-dark. The only had the dim light of a distant streetlamp. He kissed her forearm gently.

“The teeth marks of genius,” the gorgeous woman in his arms said. “I was trying to make her shower once--“

“You had to make the Nobel prize nominee shower?” he said, incredulous.

“Yes! You really don’t believe me?” she said.

“No, I think somebody bit you, baby,” he said, trying to concentrate enough to say it right. He put his arms around her more tightly. “Look, it doesn’t matter to me what your job is all right? I don’t care if you’re not famous or some shit. Whatever you do, work in the coffee shop, rescue wild raccoons, I don’t care--”

“Seriously?” Darcy said.

“Yes, baby, listen, you don’t need to impress me, okay?” he said.

“Oh my God, I’m not doing this.” She slid upright and grabbed her shirt out of the floorboard. “Get out of my car,” she said.

“You’re throwing me out?” he said, baffled. He had said it wrong, obviously.

“Yep,” she said, crossing her arms. “Get an Uber, phone a friend, I don’t care,” she told him. “I don’t take my panties off for people who think I’m a delusional whackadoo. I’m a damn catch, you know that?”

“Baby, I know,” he said softly. “I think you’re special.”

“You think I’m the wrong kind of special,” she said. “So leave.”

 

He left. Jack picked him up several blocks away. “You okay, mate?” he said.

“My life sucks,” Brock grumbled. “She kicked me out of the car. I fucked it all up and now she doesn’t want to fuck me no more.”

“She might again, you don’t know,” Jack said.

“Yeah, right,” Brock said.

“She gave you that love bite,” Jack said. “And maybe another one?” He peered at Brock’s neck. “Is that a love bite or birthmark?”

“Shit,” Brock grumbled. “You know I don’t have any birthmarks on my neck. You can’t tell anybody at work about this, they’re already ragging me about your damn frappuccino.” He peered at his reflection in the car mirror and shook his head. Several marks dotted his skin.

“Uh-huh,” Jack said, grinning widely.

“You look like a damn raccoon sometimes, you fucking Aussie marsupial,” Brock said.

“That’s very hurtful,” Jack told him.

“I know, I’m sorry. Shit. How am I supposed to fix this?” Brock wondered out loud.

“You want to date the insane woman?” Jack said. “Seriously?”

“We really connected. She likes the 1962 Chevy colors and tandoori chicken just as much as I do,” he said.

“Everyone likes tandoori chicken, though, yeah?” Jack said.

“The sex was great,” Brock said, glumly staring out the window as they went through an intersection.

“In a car?” Jack said.

“Yeah.”

“C’mon, mate. Can’t have been that good, not in a car, at your age.”

“I’m not saying I won’t need ibuprofen for my neck tomorrow, but it was worth it,” Brock said. He sighed. “You got any mints in here? I haven’t brushed my teeth and all I can taste is pussy.”

“Bloody hell, some decorum,” Jack said. “And stop touching things, I just had the car detailed.”

 

***

Darcy did the walk of shame around the building to find Rocket and Groot had snuck back into her apartment. “Blee-blee!” Groot said to her. They were watching _American Ninja Warrior._

“Good night?” Rocket said. “We got the meet set up with Castle for tomorrow. Ooooh, look, he’s gonna land on his face--”

“Yeah,” Darcy said noncommittally, feeling pretty lousy and still a little wasted. What was with her? Since when did she do stuff like this? Even her collage of Scott photos seemed to be gazing at her sadly when she went to get water. She rehydrated and went to sleep. Or tried to; she mostly tossed and turned. Stupid Brock Rumlow, she thought. She just needed to forget about him and his stupidly handsome face. Stupid perfect body and hair and everything else. She got up and updated her ‘iheartAntMan’ accounts as a coping mechanism. Cute pictures of Scott, that was what she needed to forget Brock Rumlow.

The only thing was, she _couldn’t._ All the next day, he was on her mind. She thought about him when she was shampooing her hair, when she passed the Scott collage to make coffee, and as she drove into work. “Earth to Darcy! Midgard to Darcy!” Tammy called, when she almost burned herself on a milk steamer during her shift.

“Oops, sorry,” Darcy said mechanically.

“What’s gotten into you?” Tammy said, laughing.

“Blargh,” Darcy said, huffing out a sigh. “It’s a dumb man.” Tammy snorted. “I just can’t stop thinking about him, you know? And he’s not even _my type.”_

For years, Darcy had primarily been attracted to soft, cute guys: she’d nursed a crush on Foggy at Culver (alas, he had a major thing for willowy blondes who ignored him, or they’d have four kids by now), she’d dated Ian for ages and a succession of Ian-like guys afterwards. She’d even thought that nice Richard who’d gone out on a disastrous date with Jane was adorbs. That was her type. Scott had seemed the pinnacle of her type, the perfect sweet guy. Exposure to Thor and Steve and their crazy-muscles and chiseled bone structure hadn’t changed her taste at all. But all of sudden, she could not stop thinking about Brock Rumlow. Also, she was incredibly distracted and borderline turned on all the time, like a dumb freaking rabbit. Sex wasn’t even her big thing; she liked it, of course, but she’d always been more of a cuddly person. Darcy had imagined herself snuggling Scott and getting excited over online reviews for new cereals. Taking Cassie to the aquarium. Buying matching couples pajamas.

Darcy had never fallen for someone who looked or sounded or behaved like Brock. She’d laughed uproariously when Foggy told her about Karen’s danger-boner for Frank Castle. The brooding, super hot-because-menacing guys had never been her jam.  So, why did she suddenly want to have sex with Brock Rumlow on every conceivable surface in her apartment and her job? “Umm, Darce?” Tammy said, mid-shift. “Why are you staring at the tables like that?”

“Shit,” Darcy said.

“Okay,” Tammy said slowly. “Must be some guy.”

Darcy was beginning to feel incredibly guilty and conflicted.

 

Groot found her sitting on her bed after work, staring into space. “Tee woo tah?” he asked.

“Hey,” Darcy said. “Yeah. I’m a little messed up, Groot.”

“Beedoo?” the tree said sympathetically.

“I _slept_ with the SHIELD guy,” Darcy said.

“Ooooh,” Groot said, clapping a branch over his mouth.

“Which you are way too young for,” Darcy said. “No cuddling that cute vine on the balcony next door, okay? No matter how attractive and defined their leaves are and how good their photosynthesis is and if they’ve got nicer color than you and you’re all pale and your photosynthesis is all squishy.” Groot nodded obediently. “Anyway, I feel bad, because I thought my next person would be Scott,” she said.

“Bloop,” Groot said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “And I just feel like I’m being way out of character, you know? He’s not somebody I could see myself with normally.”

“Tee yah,” Groot said, nodding.

“I wish Jane was here, she’d have good advice for this scenario. She sort of went crazy after she met Thor. He has those good muscles and cheekbones, too. Before that, she dated guys named Donald, so he was a big leap for her. How did she know?” Darcy wondered.

“Bloop,” Groot said.

“Why not send her a damn email and ask her?” Rocket said, appearing in her doorway.

“Okay,” Darcy said. Groot followed Rocket out. A conflicted Darcy tapped out an email to Jane, with the barest details of her problem--Jane didn’t need to know what Jane didn’t need to know--and asked for advice. If Jane had fixed her interstellar email whatsits, maybe she could email Darcy back and weigh in. Darcy wasn’t sure; they’d been talking about making the tech work when Jane and Thor left, but no one was certain. “Well, I sent Jane an email,” Darcy announced, walking into the living room.

“Bai,” Groot said cheerfully.

“Good. Also, your booty call just called,” Rocket said.

“What?” Darcy said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He left a message and you looked busy staring off into space and sending Jane emails,” Rocket said.

“Last week, you called me into the kitchen because a piece of cheese looked funny,” Darcy said.

“That seemed crucial,” Rocket said.

"It was blue cheese!" she said.

"So?" Rocket said. Darcy hurried over and looked at the answering machine. She’d gotten a landline just to thrill Peter from Space (not Peter from Spiders). Now the little red light was blinking and she wanted to puke. She had butterflies.

“Uhhhh,” Darcy said.

“Are you going to listen to the message?” Rocket said. He punched the button.

“Noooooo,” Darcy said. Brock’s voice filled the room.

_“Hey, baby,” he said. “I’m just calling to see how you are, wondering if you’re okay. Listen, I’m sorry about last night. Can we talk? Will you call me?”_

“Ooof,” Darcy said. “What do I do?” Her voice was little panicky.

“Please, he called the next day? He’s got it bad for you, toots. Call the man back after we go sell these things to Castle,” Rocket said. Darcy sighed.

 


	6. Did The Chuck-E-Cheese Band Play 'Proud Mary' When You Were A Kid, Too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are AWESOME.

_**Somewhere in space......** _

 

“Ah, Jane,” Thor said. “Proxima Centauri is beautiful from this side.” He was gazing out of the Benatar’s windows.

“You gotta watch it, though, ‘cause there’s pirates on the other side,” Peter Quill told him. Thor nodded. Peter was standing next to him, trying to master Thor’s posture.

“It was two pirates,” Drax said. “They were quite small and easily defeated.”

“Good,” Thor said.

“Totally,” Peter chimed in.

“It is a pretty view,” Jane said, clacking away at her computer keys and looking out the window. She would never get tired of space, the marvelousness of the universe, growing and collapsing and always changing, she thought. She wished Darcy could see it. “It’s really too bad Darcy gets such bad space sickness,” Jane was saying, when there was a _ding._ “I got another email! We must be in the right kind of galaxy stream for reception,” she said. Their email system was iffy.

“Another Nigerian prince wishing to obtain our friendship for the purposes of banking? An offer of Cialis?” Thor said curiously. So far, all their emails had been spam.

“No, this one’s from Darcy!” Jane said excitedly. “Oh, no, she’s sad.”

“What troubles my lightening sister?” Thor asked.

“Boy problems,” Jane said.

“Boys,” Peter scoffed.

“She’s seeing this new guy, he’s not her usual type, she all kerfluffled,” Jane read aloud. “He thinks she’s made up that she’s my assistant?!”

“Why would someone make up that they were your assistant?” Drax said.

“He does not sound terribly worthy,” Thor said.

“Hell no,” Jane said.

“Kerfluffled,” Peter said, sounding it out. Drax shook his head and lumbered away.

“What can we do?” Thor said.

“I have an idea,” Jane said. She tapped a number into the Benatar’s communication system. Mantis came over and peered at the email from Darcy.

“Oh, no,” she said sweetly. “I can feel the sad from the screen!”

“Yeah?” Peter said.

“There are also several sad emojis,” Jane said. They waited through a minute of beeps and then someone picked up.

“This is Carol. You know what to do--” a female voice said and then there was another beep.

“Hi, Carol, this is Jane. Can you do me that favor and call Scott and get him to cheer up Darcy. She’s down and I know she’d appreciate it if he called or sent an email or whatever,” Jane said into the speaker. “Some guy doesn’t believe she’s really my assistant. Thanks!” she said, ending the message.

 

“Carol is so awesome,” Peter said. “You know what to do,” he mimicked. “So cool.”

“She borrowed that from Luke Perry on _90210,”_ Jane supplied.

“Luke Perry?” Mantis said.

“A hunk of the brooding, just like James of the Barneses and Carol of the Danvers,” Thor explained.

“Man, I want to brood. And I want a metal arm,” Peter said. “Or to shoot stuff out of my arm.”

“No,” Mantis said. “You do not.”

 

 

***

On a refugee planet, Carol Danvers checked her messages. “Men are such tools,” she said to Nebula. They were helping people who’d been impacted by Thanos. The nearest refugee looked from Carol to Nebula to the cat circling at Nebula’s feet.

“I’m not unbiased enough to weigh in,” Nebula said wryly. “Daddy issues.”

“I’m going to make a call,” Carol said, stepping away.

“All right,” Nebula said, trailed by the cat as she went to check supplies. The planet was sunny and temperate. The perfect place to begin again. They already had a hospital, a school, and a selection of crops under a bio-dome. Nebula inhaled. She didn’t need the oxygen, she just liked the feeling of relaxation it gave her when she let go of the invisible weight on her chestplate.

 

“Hey-O! Xcon Security,” a male voice said, once Carol’s phone connected.

“Scott?” Carol said.

“Yup, what can I do for ya?” Scott said. He was sitting at his desk, eating Yoplait with M&Ms.

“This is Carol,” she told him.

“Captain Marvel?” he said excitedly. “I’ve totally told you I’m huge a fan, right? Oh, whoops--shit.” There was a clang.  “Oh, man,” he said.

“Everything okay?” Carol said wryly. She knew Scott was a fan.

“I dropped my spoon,” Scott said, voice sad.

“Okay,” Carol said. “That’s too bad. I need a favor.”

“Cool. What is it? Aliens? Nazis? Nazi aliens? I’m your guy,” Scott said. “Happy to help!” He was cheerful and enthusiastic.

“I need you to cheer up Darcy Lewis,” Carol said. “Apparently, some guy is making her feel bad.”

“Aw, man, that bums me out. She sends me the best memes. Some Guys are the worst,” Scott said. “Hank needs to go to DC, anyway. You think she’d mind if I paid her a visit?” he said.

“No, I don’t think so,” Carol said. All the Avengers but Scott, Hope, and the Wombats knew about Darcy’s crush.

“Cool. I bet she’d play skee-ball with me. Cassie is refusing. Can you believe that? She says she’s _too old_ for Chuck-E-Cheese!” he told Carol.

 

Across the room, Luis started to hum “Proud Mary.” It was picked up by Dave, then Kurt. Scott started to tap his foot. They did that whenever they wanted Scott to dance at work. By the time Scott’d hung up with Carol, Luis was doing the chorus and Scott felt compelled to demo his Tina Turner dance. "You really need a dress with beads to get the full effect, though!" Scott yelled, dancing in place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tina Turner doing an AMAZING version of Proud Mary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UyCb2FHt_w


	7. We Have A Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

The three of them were meeting Castle at a warehouse in the industrial part of one of the DC suburbs. Darcy drove carefully, not eager to be stopped by a cop or something with SHIELD tech in the car. “There’s pigeons walking faster than this,” Rocket grumbled.

“Shut up,” Darcy said.

“Tee lee,” Groot said, swishing to the Katy Perry. They pulled off into a street that was just warehouses.

“There he is,” Darcy said, spotting a battered van. Frank was leaning against it in his trenchcoat.

“He brought a dog?” Rocket said.

“He always brings a dog. The dog is cool,” Darcy said. “Don’t worry about the dog.”

“I’m unconvinced,” Rocket said. “Groot, stay in the car.”

“Bloop,” Groot said, nodding. It was a big pit bull.  Darcy and Rocket got out. Frank looked at them in surprise. 

“Frank Castle,” he said.

“Rocket,” Rocket told him. The dog sniffed eagerly.

“Hi, Dog,” Darcy said, kneeling to pet the pit bull. “Hey, Frank.”

“Lewis, nice to see you again. Rocket, huh? That a piece of equipment or a name?” Frank said.

“Just mind your dog, trenchcoat,” Rocket said, trotting towards the car trunk. Groot peered at them. Frank followed, tilted his head at Groot, and looked back at Darcy. 

“You get more interesting friends every time we meet,” Frank said to her.

“Thank you,” Darcy said sincerely. She was patting Dog and thinking about Rumlow. Just then, her phone rang. She got it out to silence it, then stopped. “It’s him!” she hissed. Brock’s number was on the screen.

“Well, answer it,” Rocket said.

“Who’s this?” Frank said.

“New boyfriend,” Rocket said. “SHIELD guy.”

“Convenient,” Frank said, eyeing the guns. 

“Hello,” Darcy said nervously into the phone.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Brock said. “What are you up to?” 

“Umm, I’m out, doing, uh, a thing,” Darcy said. Frank looked up and snickered. He was buying the stuff, Darcy thought. His eyes were drawn persistently back to the Chitauri guns.

“Everything okay?” Brock asked her.

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“Listen, I called earlier--” Brock began.

“Yeah?” Darcy said.

“Because I just, uh, wanted to say, I really wanted--” Brock said.

“To call me crazy again?” she said sharply.

“No, no,” he said. “I don’t think you’re crazy, I just think you’re...fun.”

“Fun?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said. He lowered his voice. “If this is about me not being at my best the other night, I swear, baby, just give me another chance. You know, with a real bed and more time?” he whispered.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Darcy said, too loudly. 

“What, no--look, listen,” Brock said in his normal voice.

“Possessive type?” Frank asked Rocket. It was loud enough--Frank had a deep, gravelly voice--that Brock must have heard on the other end.

“Is there a guy there? Are you on a date?” he said, sounding horrified. 

“Uhhhhh,” Darcy said, unsure of the best answer. She couldn’t say  _ no, this is an illegal arms deal. _

“This isn’t your soulmate, is it?” he asked, before she could reply. She laughed a little.

“God, no. He’s Karen’s soulmate,” Darcy blabbed. “Definitely not mine.”

“Okay,” Brock said.

“I am?” Frank said, wry expression turning hopeful. “She told you that?” 

“Who the hell is Karen?” Rocket said.

“Will you have lunch with me soon?” Brock asked. “Totally sober, no sex. I just want to talk.”

“Totally sober, no sex?” Darcy repeated.

“Well, he sounds fun,” Frank said, as Rocket took his cash and began moving the gear.

“Seriously, who is that?” Brock said.

“A friend from the dog park,” Darcy lied.

Frank gave her a thumbs up. From inside the car, Groot waved at dog. “He can pet the dog,” Frank said. “He don’t bite. What did Karen say?”

"Seriously?" Darcy said, putting her hand over the receiver. 

 

***

“When we are at SHIELD, I want you to behave, Scott,” he said, as they walked through the airport. Scott was managing both men’s rolling suitcases and trying not to trip or drop anything.

“Yes, Hank,” he said. “Excuse me.” A passing person on their phone ignored him. He had to stop. 

“No cartwheels, no memes, no Beyonce dances,” Hank said, as Scott caught up. “We’re a professional team. I have a reputation.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott said, looking up his shoulder at the suitcases. Hank was very grumpy without Hope or Janet as a buffer. Of course, they had been trying to mask their delight at a girls’ weekend. They were going to the Napa Valley. Scott wished he was going to the Napa Valley.

“We will go directly to this meeting, we will behave like adults with advanced degrees, and then you can go to karaoke or whatever it is you do in your free time. Gymboree or skee ball or some ridiculous child's hobby,” Hank said.

“Did you want to go, too?” Scott said, perking up.

“Absolutely not,” Hank said. “We need a cab.”

“I already called an Uber,” Scott supplied.

“Well, I hope it’s a sedan, because the one that drove us to the airport was so tiny it was practically a clown car,” Hank said. “Did you specifically request a clown car?”

“No,” Scott lied. Scott liked Fiats. He couldn’t understand Hank’s aversion to fun that didn’t involve Panama hats or ascots. Maybe he could get into hats and that could be a bonding experience for them? Hats or some other kind of men’s fashion. “How do you feel about two-tone oxfords?” Scott asked the other man.

“Are we gangsters now?” Hank said.

“Oh,” Scott said, disappointed.

 

They took the Uber to SHIELD headquarters. Scott chatted happily with the driver as Hank fidgeted and sighed and was generally uptight. “So, that’s a good place?” Scott said. They were talking about a bar in DC. “Did you hear that Hank, they have a mural of Tom Selleck at this place?”

“And good nachos,” the driver said.

“I love nachos,” Scott said. “Hank, we should go.”

“Nachos and Tom Selleck, how will I survive the wait?” Hank said drily.

 

Fury was waiting for them at SHIELD. “Hi, Nick!” Scott said cheerfully. “How’ve you been?” Hank sighed.

“I have been excellent, Mr. Lang,” Fury said, then shifted to a cooler tone. “Mr. Pym. Please follow me into our new R&D lab.” Fury stopped, looked back at Hank. “If we could hold commentary and questions until the end of the tour?”

“Okay,” Scott said, smiling.

“My technology saved your lives,” Hank muttered at Fury’s back. “But everyone complains about my attitude?”

“You’re a very memorable person, Hank,” Fury said, holding a door open. They stepped into the lab.

“Ooooh, this is much fancier than our new place,” Scott said. 

“Scott,” Hank said. Fury smiled at Hank.

“I like the lighting,” Scott said. “Is that under cabinet? I want those....”

 

***

“I’m headed out to lunch with Darcy,” Brock said, getting up from his desk. Jack looked over.

“Trying again?” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Brock said, sighing wistfully. 

“Thinking about her car, mate?” Jack said.

“No,” Brock said.

“Her boobs, then?” Jack said wryly.

“Shut up---they’re fantastic,” he said. “I mean, look at that woman.” He tossed one of his surveillance photo sets on Jack’s desk.

“She’s wearing a penguin sweatshirt and giving water to a plant, you bloody weirdo,” Jack said wryly.

“Have you ever seen that kind of cleavage in a sweatshirt, though?” Brock said. “It defies the laws of gravity and ninety percent of the laws of nature. I’m meeting her at Jax’s burgers. You want anything?” 

“No thanks, mate,” Jack said. Brock left the photos on Jack’s desk and went off humming happily. Jack shook his head. He was going to throw the photos in the bin, but something in one photo caught his eye. “Bloody hell,” he said aloud. 

 

Jack sorted through them, finding all the ones at that angle. Brock had probably been too busy checking out her ass to notice the obvious red flag right above her shoulder. He sat staring for a moment, wondering what to do. He knew the rules about Avengers security. This was class III, for sure. He had to make a report. What if he just placed a call? Lang was thousands of miles away, that ought to count for something. Jack picked up a phone and called his support person. “I need the number for Scott Lang in California,” he said. “And you can’t tell Broc--what do you mean, he just checked in here?” Jack said, astonished. “Can you page him about a security warning? I think we have a stalker situation.”

 

When he hung up the phone, he shook his head. “What’s wrong?” a passing agent from STRIKE Charlie said, seeing Jack’s expression.

“Brock is going to bloody kill me,” Jack said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I think his new girlfriend might be a security threat to Scott Lang,” Jack said with a sigh. 

“Scott Lang?” the other agent said. He peered at the photos. “Hold on. Do you remember that security breach the other week? Where all we had was one photo of a woman in sunglasses coming in from the parking garage?”

“Oh, God,” Jack said, feeling queasy. “The one with the potted Christmas tree?” In the photos, Darcy was watering a suspiciously familiar-looking plant.

“She was probably looking for his home address,” the other agent said.

“I need to send a team to Jax’s Burgers,” Jack said miserably.

 

***

Darcy met him for lunch. “Hi,” Brock said, leaning over to kiss her. She melted a little. They were kissing on the sidewalk when he cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to be buying you french fries,” he said. That had been her condition for showing up.

“They have lemon pepper fries here,” Darcy supplied, eyes glued to his neck. “Mmmm,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him again. 

“We should probably go in,” he said a few seconds later, but he didn’t move. 

“Yeah,” she said. She had a note on her phone about getting Rocket a to-go burger.

 

***

“Mr. Lang,” Jack began. “We have a situation.” They’d called him downstairs from R&D. Jack had never met Ant Man before, but he seemed friendly enough.

“I hope it’s not a bad situation,” Scott said.

“I’m afraid it is,” Jack said. “You appear to have a stalker and there’s a possibility she’s broken into SHIELD, so we’re concerned you could be a target.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to be a target,” Scott said.

“She appears to be running all the ‘iheartAntMan’ accounts. A woman named Darcy Lewis--” Jack began, sliding Darcy’s photos across the table.

“Darcy?” Scott said. “Darcy is iheartAntMan? I’m here to meet her.”

“You’re meeting your stalker?” Jack said, baffled.

“She’s sad because someone doesn’t believe she’s Jane’s assistant and Captain Marvel wanted me to make sure the raccoon isn’t stealing anything,” Scott said. “He tends to misbehave and Darcy’s really too nice.”

“What?” Jack said. “Can we start again?”

“Darcy Lewis is Jane Foster’s assistant,” Scott said innocently. “Jane and Thor are in space, but she gets space sickness, so she stayed behind. Plus, Groot really likes her--see, there he is!” Scott pointed to the plant in the photos.

“The Christmas tree?” Jack said.

“Isn’t he cute?” Scott said, smiling. “I bet she put him in an outfit. She wants me to teach him YMCA.”

“YMCA,” Jack repeated.

“The dance? You have that in Australia, right?” Scott said. “Awww, that’s nice, she has an Ant-Man collage? Sometimes, I feel like people don’t get me, but she does. I wonder why she didn’t tell me those were her accounts?”

 

***

They were eating when the SHIELD agents showed up to take Darcy in for questioning. “What’s happening?” Brock said, blocking her from the agent. He flashed his badge.

“Oh, God,” the agent said. “Commander Rumlow? She’s wanted for a security breach--”

“What do you mean, a security breach?” Brock.

“Whoops,” Darcy said. She looked at him. “Do you think you could take a burger to my raccoon?”

“Is this the raccoon you trained to be an accomplice when you broke into SHIELD?” the agent asked.

“Technically, I didn’t train him,” Darcy said. “He came trained. And that research belongs to me and Jane, not SHIELD.”

“What research?” the agent said.

“I’m Jane’s assistant,” Darcy said, realizing they still didn't know. Goobers.

“Baby,” Brock said, sighing. “Please don’t cuff her. I’ll follow you in with her, all right?” Darcy flagged down a nervous-looking waitress.

“Can I get a burger to-go and a box for my chicken fingers?” she asked. 

“Yes,” the waitress said.

“I am Jane’s assistant. Email her in space. We talked last week,” Darcy said.

“Really?” the agent said. He cut his eyes at Brock. “Email her in space?”

“She gets reception now that they’re near Proxima Centauri,” Darcy explained.

“Just let me talk to Fury, I’m sure we can work this out,” Brock said. Darcy turned to specify no mustard on Rocket’s burger.

“Well, at least Ant Man has been warned,” the agent said. He leaned towards Brock to whisper. “She’s got a collage of him and lots of websites, so we’re advising him to get a restraining order.”

“What?” Darcy said, turning back around. “You told Scott?” Her voice was horrified. “Oh, no. Oh God. I can’t believe you blabbed to my soulmate!”

“Ant Man is your soulmate?” Brock said.

“Well, not now!” Darcy said. “This is so embarrassing.”

  
  



	8. All The Single Ladies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos! This has been such a fun little story!

They were sitting in traffic behind the other SHIELD SUV when Brock looked at her. “Ant Man?” he said. “Really?”

“What?” Darcy said. “Scott is very charming and lovable, okay?”

“Scott,” Brock muttered, tapping the steering wheel.

“Are you serious?” Darcy said. He was looking out the driver’s side window now. He turned back to look at her.

“I could totally take him,” Brock said. “So what, he gets real small? I’ve got guns and brains.”

“Scott has a master’s degree,” Darcy said, feeling a little smug. “He has brains, too.”

“He gets real tiny and his team ruins picnics,” Brock grumbled. “I’m better-looking, too. What are his abs like?”

“Oh em gee, you’re really jealous!” Darcy said, astonished.

“I am not,” he said stubbornly. “I’m just trying to understand your logic here, having these elaborate fixations on some guy who lives in California, isn’t even single, and gets small as his major work thing.”

“Elaborate fixations?” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Baby, you had an entire collage,” Brock said.

“Okay, fine, it was a little elaborate. But it was totally homemade. I got the idea from Oprah. She had this article about vision boards and I was single and it seemed like a good idea--” Darcy began. He started to laugh.

“You wanted to visualize getting some of that?” Brock asked. He was grinning at her now.

“Shut up,” she said. They were stopped at a red light, but it still surprised her when he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m supposed to be mad at you right now.”

“Would it help if I made a collage of photos of you?” he said.

“Technically, you could,” she muttered. “Stalker SHIELD agent.”

“I could,” he said happily. “I got a lot of cute ones of you eating Cheetos in your pjs.”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “How much orange dust do I have on my face?” He grinned. They drove through a few lights.

 “Do you think you can settle for me instead of your soulmate?” he asked suddenly. Darcy looked at him. His expression was serious.

“Possibly,” she said, grinning. “You do appreciate my car so much, that has to count for something.” He laughed, but he kept trying to make out with her whenever they were stopped in traffic.

“The guys in the other SUV are staring,” Darcy said. He scoffed.

 

Darcy and Brock arrived at SHIELD. “Are they going to book me or something?” Darcy asked.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Brock said, setting his jaw. As they followed the other agents inside, Brock shifted suddenly.

“What?” Darcy said. Then she realized there were a bunch of people in the conference room: Rollins, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Hank Pym, and Scott Lang. “Oh God,” she muttered. _It’s bad enough Scott knows I’m infatuated with him, but what if they learned about the theft?_ She squished in a little closer to Brock. Seeming to read her thoughts, he put an arm around her.

“Nothing bad is going to happen,” he said.

“Sure,” Darcy said. Just then Scott spotted her through the glass and almost fell out of his chair trying to wave at her.

“Darcy! Hey!” he called out. He was showing Jack his phone when she and Brock entered. “See, here she is with me and Thor, me and Cap, me and Cassie--I have a lot of photos of you, too, Darce,” he said, beaming at her happily.

“You’re not upset?” Darcy said. “Scott, I’m so embarrassed--”

“Are you kidding? I love the way you used glitter on the edge of my collage, it really made my eyes pop,” Scott said. “And those 'iheartAntMan' accounts? They're awesome! It made me feel genuinely appreciated. Can I see the real collage one day?” Behind him, Hank rolled his eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” Darcy said, relieved. She glanced at Brock in her peripheral vision. He was actually glaring at Scott.

“But, uh, I’ve got to apologize, because I told them about Rocket and Groot,” Scott said. “My bad.”

“Are we all going to be arrested?” Darcy said.

“Ms. Lewis,” Fury said. “I’m afraid there has been a miscommunication--” He sighed and looked over at Hill.

“No one is being arrested,” Hill said. “In fact, we want to apologize for our failure to discover _basic factual evidence”_ \--she looked pointedly at Jack--”about your identity and for our agents conducting surveillance of you based on flawed information,” she finished, looking at Brock. He was still busy frowning at Scott, who was chatting amiably with the agent who wanted to arrest Darcy.

“That’s Tony Stark’s summer party to celebrate defeating Thanos,” Scott was saying, pointing to a photo. “Remember how much fun we had getting Bucky to hold us like Baby in _Dirty Dancing?”_ Scott said.

“You did what?” Brock said.

Hank started to laugh. He looked from Fury to the other agents. “What’s so funny, Hank?” Fury said.  

“I didn’t want to make this trip, Nick, but let me tell you, I’m very glad that I did. Your complete and utter incompetence”--Hank was still chuckling to himself--”is a delight. You didn’t even know she was Jane Foster’s assistant! Scott, this calls for a celebration. We’ll get you those nachos.”

“Hank, that’s mean,” Scott scolded. “But I do want nachos. Did you guys want to come, too?” He looked at Darcy and Brock and Jack. “No hard feelings?” he suggested. “Are you guys, like a couple, because I’m getting major couple vibes from your body language and his death stare?” Scott asked Darcy.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at Brock. "We are." He grinned back and kissed her forehead. “So, I won’t be suing you,” she told Maria and Nick. “As long as we can forget this ever happened?” she said, hoping no one would ever find out about the Chitauri guns. She might have to tell Brock eventually, but she would only do that when she was naked and he was in a more forgiving mood.

“Yes,” Maria said crisply.

“They can forget about it, but it’s going in my family Christmas letter,” Hank said gleefully.

 

They were ordering drinks at the bar Scott had heard about when Darcy tried to call Rocket. “I wonder where Rocket and Groot are?” Darcy wondered. “Rocket isn’t answering his phone.”

“The raccoon has a phone?” Brock said. Scott was taking selfies of himself with the mural of Tom Selleck for Luis, Kurt, and Dave.

“He’s very talented,” Darcy said. 

“Hey, Brock, come get in on these!” Scott said.

"Go have fun," Darcy said.

Brock went over to stand next to him and mural Tom Selleck. “How do you feel about karaoke?” Scott asked. Brock looked at Scott’s smiling face and decided to play along. If Darcy liked happy, cheerful guys, he would be the happiest motherfucker on the planet.

“I love karaoke,” Brock said.

“Awesome. You wanna do “Single Ladies” with me? Hank never does,” Scott said.

“I am neither single nor a lady, as I keep telling you,” Hank said. “Janet already put a ring on it. But these mai tais are delicious. I should have given that Uber driver more credit.”

“I can do “Single Ladies” if Darcy wants to go,” Brock said, deciding firmly to roll with it. Darcy--seeing Brock’s expression--started to giggle.

“He’s trying _really hard,_ isn’t he?” she said quietly to Jack.

“Too right,” Jack said. 

“Awwww,” Darcy said. “He’s adorable.” She grinned at Brock. “We’re going to have a great third date!” she called to him. He brightened up.

  


***

“You ready?” Frank said, when the van’s door opened and Rocket climbed in, setting Groot gently in the back next to Dog. “This is strictly need to know, you can’t tell Darcy,” Frank said.

“Trenchcoat, I’ve got need to know policies for entire planets. What are we stealing?” Rocket said.

“We’re doing a favor for my friend Red, gonna fix his Wilson Fisk situation legally,” Frank said. “Fisk is gonna stay in jail this time.”

“And this has nothing to do with that nice journalist you’re fond of?” Rocket said. At Frank’s incredulous look, Rocket smirked. “What, pal, I do my research, too.”

“He threatened Karen,” Frank said grimly. “I’m only not killing him ‘cause she don’t want me to do that no more.”

 

In the backseat, Dog licked Groot’s branches gently. “Bleep!” Groot said in delight. The tiny tree giggled.

“See, he’s a very nice dog,” Frank said. “Pits get a bad wrap, but he loves everybody.”

“Bleep bleep!” Groot said, as Dog licked him more enthusiastically. The dog’s tail thumped against the van’s walls.

 

 

-The End-

 


End file.
